


adjustments (or: you've been lonely too long)

by raven_bird



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M, Post-Series, Reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-31 08:18:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6462796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raven_bird/pseuds/raven_bird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After so many centuries apart, it takes a while to get used to having each other back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	adjustments (or: you've been lonely too long)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [that_shipper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/that_shipper/gifts).



> Alrighty so this is technically supposed to be for that-shipper's birthday but i'm shitty so it's going up now.
> 
> (I love you <3)

_You bear the scars_  
You've done your time  
Listen to me:  
You've been lonely too long. 

_Dust to Dust - The Civil Wars_

I.

Merlin had grown accustomed to living alone.

Arthur’s return brought a host of predicaments that Merlin had not thought of. He was unprepared, for one, for Arthur’s distrust of electricity. The former king had barely stepped over the threshold of Merlin’s house when he shuddered, his hands flying up automatically to cover his ears.

“What _is_ that noise?”

As it turned out, the hum of electricity was unbearable to Arthur. The advancements of technology were more than just alien to him -- they were overpowering, invasive, terrifying. The world had transformed so much in Arthur’s absence that the buzz from electronics, introduced gradually to Merlin, were simply too much for Arthur to handle.

And so Merlin went through every possible effort to shut off the power. He turned the power breakers in his basement, effectively powering down his house, until the only illumination came from distant streetlights outside the window. Merlin dug out the candles from his cupboards, all too aware of Arthur’s eyes on him.

It’s more of effort than he had anticipated, but it was worth every second when he heard Arthur’s breathing ease out and his eyes follow the flickering flames with a reassured expression.

 

II.

Arthur’s speech was riddled with hints of the past - adages that Merlin hadn’t heard uttered in centuries, words that had long since faded into obscurity. The sound of them brought to mind cobblestoned roads and the clatter of hooves on city streets, things that hadn’t crossed Merlin’s mind in ages. Sometimes, it was too much. Merlin could hear in his voice the voices of all those that he used to know -- Gwen, Leon, Morgana, Lancelot, Percival, Gwaine, all the hundreds that had long since been entombed in graves of water and earth and time.

Dust to dust.

 

III.

It was hard to break the habit of going on walks. Merlin’s had spent so many years passing the lake that he found himself gravitating towards it instinctively. He woke up in the mornings and pulled on his overcoat, tied the laces on his boot, and was halfway to the lake before he realized that he had no real reason for these excursions. Arthur was safe at home, real and tangible and no longer a thing of memories.

Other days, Arthur would wake at the sound of Merlin pulling out his coat, stepping into his boots.

“Going for a walk, Merlin?” He’d ask, even though they both knew that the answer was yes. They both knew why Merlin was unable to break the habit. They were both all too aware of the reason it had become a habit.

Merlin would shrug. “Nice day for it.” The sun would often have barely risen, but Arthur never argued the point.

Instead, he’d join Merlin. Eventually, Merlin allowed Arthur to begin leading the way down paths that didn’t lead to the waterside. With Arthur beside him, the persistent, irrational worry that plagued Merlin no longer had any effect. Instead of convincing himself that Arthur’s return was only a delusion developed from built-up longing, he was able to glance to the side at Arthur’s profile. With a single look, all of these fears dissipated, and Merlin’s heart lightened the slightest bit.

 

IV.

They talked.

It was impossible to compare the fates that they had endured for the gap that stretched from their past lives to their current ones. For Merlin, the years blurred together. It was difficult for him to pick apart all the events that had sparked and faded in turn over the years. The periods of war, the periods of destitution, the periods of tyranny, and the periods of pandemic: they became indistinct. Never failing to bring death and tears, these events always struck a flint in Merlin’s heart and sparked a brief hope -- _would this be it? Would this mean Arthur’s return?_

It never was. Hope faded, yet again, and Merlin’s heart grew calloused and never jumped quite the same way at news of despair. All that he could see was pain, sweeping across the people, but never any respite. Never any Arthur.

For Arthur, the interval seemed shorter. Yesterday, it seemed, he had been living in a world filled with swords and castles. It was unspeakably strange to emerge in a land where nothing was near the feudal system that he had known.

Even worse was the cold. That was the one thing that always seemed to strike Arthur the most, when he strained to remember anything from the last centuries. The bone cold, palpable even in the lowest state of consciousness. Sometimes, when Arthur really concentrated, he could recollect the slightest trace of a tug: something pulling him to the surface, coaxing him into leaving the murky, unclear depths and rise. Sometimes he could remember a voice. Someone saying his name.

There was never more than that.

They learned to adapt. Merlin began keeping an extra pile of blankets on the arm of the couch, so that there was always one at hand when he noticed Arthur shivering. Arthur would try and shrug him off - _“I’m fine, Merlin”_ \- but he’d accept it in the end. Merlin notched up the heat in the house, drew Arthur warm baths, and pressed cups of steaming coffee into his hands in the morning.

Arthur returned this by never straying far from Merlin, perhaps picking up on the subtle panic that rushed over the wizard when he called Arthur’s name and didn’t get a response. Arthur seemed to pick up on the moods that overtook Merlin sometimes, when he’d get distracted by something out a window and stare and stare and stare. A small side effect of thousands of years of solitude: you begin to stop noticing the passage of time. That is, until someone takes your hand and pulls you away from your thoughts.

Arthur also made his presence quite clear by making a mess in nearly every room that he entered, but that was most likely just a habit. Still, Merlin thought, it was good to see that some things hadn’t changed.

 

V.

Merlin knew that he could have easily spelled Arthur warm, enchanted the blankets so that they rose to the perfect temperature. Somehow, though, it was easier to slip in beside the man and spread the duvet out so that it covered the both of them. And, when Arthur stole the covers, Merlin didn’t mind. He rolled over and nudged in next to Arthur. It was enough.

Sometimes in the middle of the night, Arthur would wake, gasping for breath as if he were drowning. Merlin never said a word. He slid a hand across Arthur’s chest, and felt Arthur’s breath slowing, becoming more content. Often, Merlin didn’t bother to move his hand when Arthur recovered. The feel of Arthur’s warm skin beneath his was too alluring, after all the years where it lay out of reach. Merlin felt himself growing accustomed to falling asleep to the feeling of Arthur’s ribcage rising and falling beneath his palm.

And eventually, he stopped thinking about how much it would hurt if this were torn away from him again.

 

VI.

Looking back, it seemed inevitable.

Yes, they were all that they had now, but it was more than that. It was thousands of years of longing. It was the underlying messages that the two of them had shared, even all those years ago: the lingering looks, and the way that Arthur would make up any excuse to keep Merlin around a little longer, late in the night. It was the connection that neither of them, now, had any doubts that they had.

_Two sides of the same coin._

Merlin had heard all kinds of soulmate legends over the years. He’d heard the tales of lovers bound by a red string around their little fingers. He’d heard the Greek legend about Zeus splitting humans, leaving them to search for their other half. He’d heard all these and more, repeated across cultures and across tongues, and never had he stopped being struck by how much it reminded him of what the Great Dragon had said to him.

He had been so young, then. Arthur, too.

But here they were, in one piece, defying all odds. They had crossed borders and social status and the veil of death, and still managed to find each other. It was only natural, somehow, when Merlin began reaching for Arthur after the dreams of losing him. When Arthur backed Merlin up against the wall, his eyes laughing and almost cheery, Merlin only had a moment to register the happy pang in his heart before Arthur’s lips were on his.

It felt as though every moment in their lives had been leading up to this. The red string, the other half of his coin – whatever it was that kept bringing the two of them back to each other, Merlin was glad for it.

And that was the life that they created together. It was more of a happy ending than Merlin had ever allowed himself dream to of.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment or kudos if you enjoyed!!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at [lavenderjehan](http://lavenderjehan.tumblr.com)
> 
> Not sure where I was really going with this one so hopefully it turned out okay. :))


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